The Boy Next Door
by littlerose23
Summary: What if Clarke and Murphy met before they were sent to earth? Clarke is in solitary, struggling with her grief and going mad from the isolation, when a prisoner is thrown into the cell next to hers. Murphy spends the night in solitary for bad behaviour. Now he's the only thing keeping Clarke sane and she's the first friend Murphy's ever had. How will the 100's story change?
1. Chapter 1

_Hi everyone!_

 _Yes, I know I should be working on 'Miss Me Princess?', and I still am, but another little idea popped into my head for another Clarke/Murphy story and they are just so darn cute that I couldn't ignore it. So here you are, and I hope you enjoy it..._

 **The Boy Next Door**

 **Chapter one**

They had lived in space for several generations now, but it had always been made clear to the citizens of the ark that this way of life was only temporary. They learned about the earth; they gazed at it through their windows; they thought about it. They dreamed of earth. In a way, they were almost homesick for it, for somewhere that now - 97 years on - none of them had ever actually been.

Of all the things that she had learned and imagined about life on earth, recently, it was the thought of days that enthralled Clarke the most. The brightness of the daytime with the sun lighting up the atmosphere as it arced across the sky, followed by the darkness of nighttime, like the blackness of space. A period of light and then a period of dark, a repeating sequence marking the passage of time in a steady cycle. It wasn't something she had ever thought about much before…

Before now.

Before everything changed.

Before her father was floated and she was locked up in solitary.

There were clocks, and watches, and screens, and computers, all over the stations to tell you the time in a digital display, as well as schedules for work and school and meals, and curfews and lights out. But in isolation, removed from a daily routine, Clarke lost time. Time became an abstract concept out with her grasp. The arrival of her meals was the only distinction but they didn't seem to follow a timed regiment. Or maybe they did but Clarke was just too dazed and disoriented from months of isolation to realize it.

The bang of a door swinging open at the end of the corridor startled Clarke out of a day dream. She blinked repeatedly, wondering how much time had passed since she finished her last meal, had it been dinner, or maybe breakfast? It felt like minutes ago but the stiffness in her limbs suggested she had been sitting there for a long time. She tried to suppress the pang of fear that that realization caused. Imprisonment was affecting her much more than she could have imagined.

She moved to the door of her cell, her muscles which were tight and weak from lack of use stretched painfully with each step as she moved to press her ear against the cold metal. Clarke listened, strong to hear what was going on outside. The stomp and shuffle of boots could be heard accompanied by grunts and curses. The noises were muted and indistinct but Clarke could hear enough to tell that there were at least three people making their way along the corridor, their movements were jerky and stumbling and punctuated by thumps and scuffs. An icy shiver stole over Clarke as she realized that she was listening to the guards detaining a prisoner. Her thoughts instantly jumped to the worst possibility – a floating. Bile rose in the back of her throat. Her heart pounded as visions of her father being escorted to an airlock chamber by two guards flashed before her eyes. She held her breath as they came nearer and listened carefully. But they didn't pass her cell, instead the cell next to hers was flung open. There was a thump followed by a pained groan, then the door was slammed shut and two sets of boots marched away back down the corridor. Clarke released the breath she had been holding with a sigh of relief.

"Hello?" Clarke called out hesitantly in a voice that was hoarse from lack of use. Stepping away from the door and going to stand at the wall that separated her cell from the one next to it. The cell was so small that it only took her three steps to cross to it. She stood directly under the air vent and leaned close with her ear cocked towards the wall.

Nothing.

Then a soft shuffle and a sharp gasp followed by a groan of pain.

"Hello?" Clarke repeated.

"Is someone there?" a male voice croaked out faintly.

A spark of excitement ignited in Clarke at the sound of a voice other than her own.

"Yes!" Clarke answered giddily. She reached a shaking hand out to touch the wall between them. "I'm in the cell next to you." She slid her hand up the wall until her fingertips reached the air vent, and she tapped it making the grate rattle. "Here."

"Oh." Was his only reply.

Her head was spinning, it felt like she was fully awake for the first time in months, as though everything else had just been one big long trance and this person was the splash of cold water on her face, wakening her up and sharpening all of her senses.

"What happened?" Clarke questioned. There was a pause before the answer came through in stunted sentences.

"Got in a fight." There was more shuffling and a moan of pain. "Stupid guards came." He gasped for breath. "Dragged me off to solitary."

"Are you ok?" she asked "You don't sound so good."

"Hurts." He groaned back.

"Shit." Clarke swore softly as a sudden panic seized her. He didn't sound good at all. And Clarke knew that the useless guards wouldn't do anything about him anytime soon. She tried to think. "Can you tell me what hurts?" she called out, trying to keep her voice as calm as possible.

"M' face. M' head. M' side" he slurred out.

"Are you bleeding?" she questioned. The only reply was an ambiguous hum which sharpened into a moan. "Hey!" Clarke shouted banging her hand against the grate. "Stay with me…what's your name?"

"John." Came the mumbled reply.

"Okay John. I'm going to help you but you need to stay awake for me. Can you do that?"

"'kay."

"Good. Are you bleeding anywhere John?" Clarke wasn't sure where the question came from. Her mind was a blur of thoughts and feelings that were all speeding by too fast for her to focus on any one. She wasn't used to having to think but her mind was up and running faster than she could process so she let instinct take over.

"Yeah m'head is bleeding."

"Okay." Clarke struggled to think what to do. "Okay, you're going to need to stop that. Do you have a blanket in there?"

"No."

"What about…" she paused for a moment, thinking. It was a conscious effort to think. She had spent too long giving into the isolation and getting lost inside her head in a constant day-dream. But she needed to pull it together now, someone needed her help. She could be _useful_ again. "A jacket! Do you have a jacket or a jumper?"

"Just wearing a t-shirt." Came the reply. _Shit._ Thought Clarke. That wasn't good, the ark was cold at the best of times and these cells were some of the coldest places without enough body heat to warm them. _Ok think. Think, think, think._

"John I want you to take off one of your socks and hold it against the cut on your head. Can you do that?"

"Uh yeah…" He answered followed by a muffled grunt of pain and some shuffling.

"Remember to put your shoe back on, okay? It's too cold in these cells. Have you done that?" Clarke called to him.

"Yeah." John mumbled back.

"Good. That's good. Just keep the sock pressed against where it's bleeding and you'll be fine. Now I need you to stay sitting up straight and you need to stay awake." Her brain was dusting off the cobwebs of boredom and bits of long forgotten knowledge were floating to the surface now: _he could have a concussion, he was at risk of a fever and possible pneumonia._

"But I'm really tired." He moaned.

"I know." Clarke soothed. "But you've hurt your head and you're going to be cold. So no sleeping."

"Fine." He grumbled.

"Where are you sitting?"

"Eh…on the floor?"

"Are you leaning against this wall here between us," she knocked on the cold metal, "or at the opposite side?"

"Neither. I'm beside the bed." Clarke briefly wondered why he would sit next to it but not on it but didn't want to waste his energy with pointless questions.

"Do you think you can move? There are some pipes that run underneath this wall between our two cells, it's not exactly warm but it takes the cold out of that part of my cell so I think it will be the same for you."

She pressed her ear against the wall and heard sounds of him shifting himself awkwardly across the floor, she could her his slightly labored breathes and his moan of pain. Then he spoke and his voice sounded much closer.

"You don't ask for much do you angel."

She laughed. He was right there. Right on the other side of the wall. Just inches away from her hand.

She laughed because there was a person right there talking to her. She laughed because she wasn't alone anymore. She laughed because she was worried about making sure he was ok and he was giving her sarcasm.

"Uh, my names Clarke." She said, feeling suddenly slightly flustered. She sat down on the floor, her hand still touching the wall in front of her and a smile still curving her lips.

* * *

It must have been about a week later when the door at the end of the corridor once again swung open with a heavy bang. Clarke was instantly alert and listening intently. This time the sound of tramping boots was accompanied by raised voices: one slinging curses and insults, and the other growling threats. She listened carefully to the stomping boots, listening to hear how close they were. The thump of footsteps stopped and Clarke heard the groan of metal as the door of the cell next to hers was opened. She could hear movement, the shuffling sounds of someone being forced into the cell and then the door was slammed shut. A curse was shouted from inside the cell, it echoed through her wall as footsteps retreated down the corridor, the angry complaints of the guard fading into the distance.

"Eh…Hello?" a male voice hesitantly called out. Clarkes heart leapt.

"Hello?" She tentatively called back. She heard a laugh through the wall.

"Waw." Clarke could hear the smile in his voice. "So I didn't dream the whole thing up?" he asked her, and she knew instantly who it was. "You're really there?" he asked again and she found herself smiling too.

"John?" she called out to him, "Is that you?"

"Yeah." He laughed again. "I can't believe you're really there."

"I…uh…yeah." She stumbled out awkwardly, not sure what else to say.

"I can't remember your name." he told her apologetically.

"Clarke." She supplied instantly.

"Clarke." He repeated. "My very own guardian angel."

"I…uh…" heat rushed to her cheeks even although he couldn't see her. "Are you okay?" she clumsily asked. "You were, well, I mean, you sounded pretty out of it."

"I'm fine." He told her. "Thanks to you." There was a pause for a moment, then he sounded more serious when he asked, "Why did you help me?"

"Why wouldn't I?" she asked in return, feeling a sudden twinge of defensiveness at the insinuation.

"Most people wouldn't have." He said flatly.

"That's not true."

"Yeah well, thank you." He didn't sound convinced, but his gratitude sounded genuine.

"You're welcome."

They fell silent. The quietness stretch and expanded, filling the cramped cell. Clarke felt a pressure building; she wasn't used to talking anymore, to having someone there to make conversation with.

"Why are you back?" She asked and then silently cursed herself for being blunt and tactless. But he didn't seem to mind, he answered her question easily.

"Because it was bugging me; I needed to find out if you were real or not."

"You really thought you imagined it?" Clarke asked surprised.

"I was pretty out of it. The Doc told me I had a concussion when I was taken the next day."

"I can't believe it took them that long to get you seen by a doctor." She scowled with a wave of righteous anger that made her feel more like herself than she had in months.

"You have met the guards here, haven't you?" He chuckled, amused by her outrage.

"Right." she answered, then a realisation hit her an she straightened. "Wait, did you get yourself sent to solitary _on purpose_?" Clarke asked.

"Uh yeah." He admitted sheepishly. Clarke sucked in a sharp breath. It was an unbelievably reckless thing to do – to provoke the guards of the ark in the hope that they would use solitary as a punishment. John could just as easily have been denied rations, or given lashes, or just beaten up. She shuddered at the thought. There was a pause before John spoke again, his words measured and direct.

"I remember hearing about a girl who was arrested for treason a couple of months ago." He hesitated before asking, "Was that you?"

Clarke was silent. She didn't know how to answer that. Her mind whizzed, her thoughts once again moving too fast for her focus on. Her mouth moved but no sound came out. But John spoke again, taking her silence as an affirmative.

"I'm sorry." He said. When Clarke finally spoke the words that came out weren't what she expected.

"You're the first person I've spoken to in months." She confessed in a small voice.

"That sucks." He said. It was like having a heavy weight lifted off her shoulders to be able to say that out loud to someone, to have someone know that she was struggling and it didn't sound like he pitied her. There was another pause before he added. "Well, I'm here for another night. You know…if you want some company or whatever?" his offer trailed off uncertainly.

Clarke smiled.

"I would like that." she said softly.

"Okay."

"John?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you came back."

* * *

 _Please review with any feedback, I always love hearing from you all..._


	2. Chapter 2

**The Boy Next Door**

 **Chapter Two**

 _Several months later…_

 **Clarke's p.o.v.**

It had been almost four weeks. _Four weeks_. The thought burned in her mind no matter how hard Clarke fought to suppress it. The anxiety prickled up and down her spine, every muscle in her back taut with tension. She drew a shuddering breath and forced all her attention onto the picture in front of her. Clarke had been pouring over the image for hours, homing in on every minute detail as she drew. She was drawing a landscape of earth on the floor of her cell. Drawing with the charcoal _he_ had given her.

She could lose herself in a drawing, it had always been her favorite way to escape.

She had been doing it for hours now, fully absorbed in the shapes and shades. It was the only thing that kept her going these days, keeping her grounded, keeping her sane. No not the only thing. He kept her sane and grounded, he gave her hope, he was the only thing that made her want to keep fighting for one more day. Her heart clenched painful in her chest. Her concentration snapped. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and pushed herself away from the drawing, sliding along the floor until her back hit the cold metal cell wall and she slumped against it.

John. He had turned up one night in the cell next to hers and had saved her from fading away into the grief and the isolation that had been consuming her. That was months ago. Since then he had come back time and time again. She always warned him not to. It was too dangerous, too risky to provoke the guards. But he always came back anyway; breaking the rules or getting himself into fights just so he could be sent to solitary. Since that first night he had been back a dozen times. She started to suspect that he needed and craved their meetings just as much as she did. It was amazing the secrets you would share with a person when you didn't have to look them in the eye; all the deepest darkest parts of you. When you were alone in the dark and afraid it was all the horrible thoughts that come out. John understood that. He didn't judge or offer empty platitudes, he just listened. Then he would take a turn to talk, to bare his soul.

In one of their all-night-long talks she had mentioned her love for drawing. After that it was almost three weeks before he was back in the cell next to her, the longest stretch of time she had gone without his company since he was first brought there. He told her it had taken some time to get her present, then he slipped a piece of charcoal through the slates of the air vent between them.

She had thanked him over and over again. It was the only words she could think, the only words she could form through her tears of overwhelming gratitude. He mumbled something about them being even now. She had saved his life that first night they met and so this was his way of repaying her for that, of returning the favor. She could her his discomfort in the mumbled tone of his voice and knew it wasn't as simple as that, it wasn't just the payment of a debt, it was a kind and thoughtful act of friendship - but he struggled with things that. He didn't have friends and he'd never known kindness, not in the many years since he was orphaned. So she smiled through her tears.

"We're even." She told him.

She filled her time, waiting for his next visit by drawing, or thinking about what to draw, planning what to draw. But the charcoal was nearly finished, just a tiny little stub that she held pinched between the tip of her finger and thumb. And it had been almost a month since she last had a visit from John. Today was day 27, she knew because she was keeping a tally on the wall. Every morning when she added a new stroke for another night without him, an ice-cold knot of fear formed in her stomach.

Of all the things they shared and talked about, the one topic they never approached was their fates as prisoners. It was always there, unspoken - the elephant in the room. But how do you ask someone how long until they turn eighteen when what you're really asking them is how long until they die?

The distinctive sound of the door at the end of the hall opening pulled Clarke out of her trance. Footsteps marched smartly along the hall, coming nearer and then stopping. The lock on her door groaned and before Clarke could scramble to her feet two guards burst into her cell. A startled squeak escaped her as she backed away from them. Fear pounded in her chest.

"Prisoner three-one-nine face the wall." The guard ordered. Panic squeezed her throat.

"No." she breathed out, her mouth bone-dry. "I still have another month." She stuttered out as an icy cold terror washed over her. She _knew_ that was true. It was another gift from John – he always told her the day, the date, the time. Every time he visited, and she had been keeping careful track, desperate not to lose herself and her sanity to the grip of isolation. Just the thought of John sent another jagged spike of panic through her chest. She would never see him again. Is this what had happened to him? Had they taken him, was it his time, had he felt like this? A sob escaped her as she gasped for air through the panic. "I'm not eighteen yet. I get reviewed at eighteen." Clarke stammered. Then another figure stepped through the door and pushed past the guards.

"Mom?" It was the first time she had seen her mom in months. Another sob ripped out of her throat and tears overflowed as Abby pulled her into a tight hug. "They're reducing the population, aren't they?" Clarke asked, her words wobbling with fear and tears.

"Clarke listen to me," Abby cupped her hands around Clarkes face. "You're not being floated." She stated firmly, "You're being sent to the ground."

"No." Clarke inhaled sharply. "It's not safe."

"You're getting a chance to live Clarke." Abby smiled through her own tears.

Then everything went blank.

* * *

When she came to, Clarke was strapped into a seat. The harness was too tight, and an unfamiliar weight on her right arm drew her attention to the metal wrist band attached there. There was noise, Clarke realised. So much noise, and so many people.

"You're awake." Clarke turned to the voice at her right, and was shocked by who she found strapped into the seat next to her.

"Wells." Anger ignited inside her. "Why are you here?" she demanded.

"When I found out they were sending prisoners to the ground I got myself arrested. I came for you." Wells told her earnestly.

"Idiot." Clarke muttered, turning away from him.

All over the dropship screens flickered on and Chancellor Jaha appeared before them.

"This is your second chance. You all find yourselves on this dropship because - through your crimes - you made yourself expendable to the ark. But if this mission is a success you will all be forgiven. You're records will be wiped clean." The undercurrent of hisses and insults erupted into a furious uproar of angry shouts and curses that drowned out the next few sentences. "Mount Weather military base was built to survive nuclear war. Unfortunately, no-one made it there in time. But many of the supplies and resource should still be functional, to allow you to survive until we can follow you down. This is an amazing opportunity - for all of you and for the ark. Good luck. May we meet again."

The screens flickered off as the feed was cut.

There was a pause and then a wave of panic surged through the dropship as the 100 teens faced the reality of what was about to happen. There was a grinding of motors, a roar of engines, and a burning of thrusters. The noise was deafening. Tremors and quakes rocked through the dropship, rattling it like it was tin can. The metal groaned around them. Clarke could barely make out the sounds of the teens around her screaming and crying, but she could see it on the surrounding faces, see the terror in their eyes.

Then there was a sudden thrust and everyone jerked within the confines of their harnesses. Clarke felt a lurch in her stomach caused by the momentum of movement. Then she felt it. They were moving. Traveling. _Soaring_ through space. There was a pop of pressure and then they were weightless. Clarke exhaled sharply, eyes wide with awe as she realized – there was no gravity.

Whoops and cheers rang out through the dropship. Clarke didn't feel at all like celebrating but she guessed that the adrenalin and exhilaration were hyping up many of the teens. Emotions would be running high. But then she heard laughter next and looked around in confusion. Clarke stared incredulously as a body floated into view in front of her. He summersaulted to cheers and applause from the others. He turned to Clarke with a smug smile, eyes raking over her.

"You're the traitor that's been in solitary for a year." He said, looking at Clarke with keen interest. She glared back at him.

"And you're the idiot who wasted a month of oxygen on an illegal spacewalk." Rather than being offended he seemed pleased that she knew who he was.

"But it was fun." He smirked at her. "I'm Finn."

"I don't care. Just get back in your seat."

* * *

Once they were safely on solid ground Clarke stood with a map in hand, surveyed their surroundings.

"Why so serious Princess? It's not like we died?" Finn said teasingly.

"Tell that to the guys who followed you out of their seats." She glared at him.

"You don't like being called Princess. Do you Princess?" he grinned at her.

"I just don't like you." She muttered as she examined the map. But there was a small voice in the rational part of her brain telling her that she couldn't do this all by herself. So, with a resigned sigh, she looked back at Finn, running a critical eye over him before she held the map out for him to see.

"Do you see that peak over there?" Clarke pointed at the horizon. "That's Mount Weather." She consulted the map. "Which means there's a radiation soaked forest between us and our next meal."

She turned on her heel and headed back towards the dropship, pleased to see all traces of his earlier playfulness falling from his face as she waked away. Clarke lay the map out on a flat piece of metal and started to mark their location. Wells appeared at her side but she ignored him and continued plotting their course to Mount Weather.

"Well that's a problem." Wells commented as he inspected the map over her shoulder. With a sigh, Clarke swallowed down the anger that he stirred inside her and allowed him to examine the map more closely. She couldn't do it all herself – Clarke reminded herself - and the more people she could convince the better.

"This is where we need to get to if we want to survive." She pointed to the map. Wells considered her markings with a frown.

"That's, what, twenty miles?" he estimated.

"Maybe more. And not an easy trek either."

"The privileged holding court already?" interrupted an angry voice. Clarke looked up from the map and realized that not only her and Wells, but Finn and two other teens – Jasper and Monty, she thought their names were – were crowded around to look at the map. The small group all turned to face the Blake siblings.

"What are you complaining about." Octavia challenged angrily. "We're on the ground. That not enough for you two?"

"We need to find Mount Weather." Clarke answered simply.

"You heard my father's message. That has to be our first priority." Wells added, stepping towards the siblings. Clarke winced, immediately knowing they wouldn't react well to that.

"Screw your father!" Octavia spat venomously. Now others gathered to listen, drawn by the sound of angry voices. Bellamy smirked.

"What, you think you're in charge here? You and your little princess?" he sneered at them. Clarke stared at them incredulously.

"Do you think we care who's in charge?" she asked disbelievingly. "How long do you think we'll live without supplies?" Worried murmurs sounded around them. The Blake's both glared at her but neither answered. "If we want to get there before dark we need to leave. Now."

"I've got a better idea." Bellamy said. "You two go find it for us. Let the privileged do the hard work for a change.

"Yeah!" An enthusiastic cheer went up around them. Bellamy grinned.

 **Murphy's p.o.v.**

Murphy frowned, silently listening from the sidelines. He'd been watching the girl with the map since they had landed. The others were all running around fueled by a buzz of adrenalin and excitement, celebrating their survival and their new-found freedom, but he didn't have anything to celebrate. The blonde seemed to be the only one with any kind of plan amongst the 100, so he stayed at a careful distance and watched as she worked out their location and started to explain it to others. Then Bellamy and Octavia Blake had stormed up looking for a fight. He considered Bellamy Blake warily. Murphy didn't like the privileged either. He was all for making them work. But this sounded like a stupid idea. A voice in his head, which sounded a lot like Clarke, asked: _why risk important supplies and food for an opportunity to make life hard for these two privileged kids?_

The discussion dissolved as arguments broke out amongst them all. Murphy stayed silent, continuing to observe everyone carefully. He wasn't going to make any rash decisions, he wasn't going to rush in and pick a side – not yet. He smiled humorlessly to himself: no rushing in, no rash decisions, no angry outbursts. _The effect a girl can have on you_ , he thought wryly to himself.

Beside him Mbege shouted loudly in agreement with Bellamy.

"Uppity bitch!" Mbege snarled at the blonde girl. Murphy considered his cell mate with a frown. A few months ago, he would probably have been reacting the same way as Mbege. He'd always been angry and impulsive and any excuse to rage against the upper class was fine by him. But so much of his temper and his rage had been eased since he met Clarke. Not only that, but the more time he spent with her the closer they became, and the more he realized that people like Mbege weren't _real_ friends. Clarke was a real friend, probably the only one he'd ever had. Murphy wondered sadly what she would say if she was there.

Mbege threw him a disgruntled look, he didn't like this solemn Murphy, who had been quiet and sulking ever since they landed. Murphy ignored him, uncaring of the disapproving looks Mbege kept giving him, as he watched the small group cluster together once more. He stepped closer to listen.

"So, Mount Weather." The spacewalker said as he approached Jaha and the Princess. "When do we leave?"

"Right now." The girl answered.

"We're in." The rwo other teens spoke up, one wearing goggles on his head, and both smiling brightly at the blonde. As Murphy watched she raised an eyebrow skeptically at them, critically looking them over.

"You'll need some help to carry food for 100 people." The boy with the goggles said to her.

"Fine." She nodded.

"Welcome aboard." Spacewalker grinned at them both.

"Sounds like a party." Octavia flounced over, smiling flirtatiously. "I'm in."

"What the hell are you doing?" Bellamy demanded, coming up behind her.

With a frustrated sigh the Princess turned away from the feuding siblings and headed towards the forest. She stopped suddenly and Murphy watched her grab Spacewalker by the wrist.

"Hey! Were you trying to take this off?"

"Yeah. So? It's annoying." He whined.

"It transmits to the ark. Take it off and they'll think you're dead."

"Should I care?" he asked with arrogant nonchalance.

"I don't know; do you want the people you love to think your dead?" she challenged.

Murphy felt a pang as he listened to the bossy blonde scold the spacewalker, and thought of the only person he left behind. Clarke wouldn't know he was gone. What would she think had happened to him? There was a whisper in his heart, a flicker of hope, that told him she could be here somewhere, amongst the 100. But what was the chance of that? It had been a month since his last trip to solitary thanks to the mandatory crash-course in earth skills they were put through. He'd tried to get out of it, tried to piss them off enough to kick him out but all he got for his efforts was a lashing with the electric prod and sent straight back to class. No exemptions, no exceptions. And Clarke hadn't been in the class, so it was highly unlikely that she was down here.

"Don't you want them to follow us down?" she asked. "Because they won't if they think we're dying."

She stalked away from him, pushing passed Bellamy as she went. Murphy contemplated the blonde's words as he watched her retreat. But then his gaze landed on Bellamy who was also watching the blonde, with a look of shrewd interest. Murphy didn't like that look.

"Let's go!" she called out over her shoulder as she disappeared between the trees.

* * *

 _So... what do you think? I'd love any feedback anyone has to offer..._

 _P.S. Thanks to everyone who is reading; especially to all those who have reviewed, followed and favourited - you guys rock!_


	3. Chapter 3

**The Boy Next Door**

 **Chapter Three**

Murphy sat staring into the fire, Mbege sitting sullenly beside him. It had been hours since the group left on their hike to Mount Weather. Once darkness had fallen some people had had the sense to start a fire. Murphy had helped them gather kindling and then watched as two of the teens built a campfire exactly as they had been so rigorously trained over the last several weeks in their crash-course in earth skills.

It had seemed so strange at the time, not just that they were getting lessons but also how serious the instructor was about it all, as he preached about life-and-death decisions. But it all made horrible sense now. If only they had told them what was going to happen, then they might all would have paid a lot more attention. As it was Murphy spent most of the time sulking that the stupid lessons were keeping him away from Clarke, he had tried to get himself sent to solitary but apparently there were to be no exceptions.

They had been on earth for hours now, but other than the campfire no one had done anything else productive and an antsy discontent was spreading through the camp. The initial joy and euphoria had wilted, the idea of freedom wasn't living up to the reality, and once the adrenaline and excitement had worn off the harshness of their new reality settled in. Basics like hunger, needing the toilet and feeling cold all started to present problems. They had nothing: no food, no shelter, no water, and no plan. They became dejected. Some started enquiring about the hiking party: _'Who went?', 'Were they going far?', 'Would they be long?', 'Should they follow them?'_. Gradually they had all migrated towards the fire, clustering around in small huddles seeking light and keeping warm.

Murphy started to wish he had gone with the group, it might have been hard work but it would have been better than sitting around doing nothing. Everyone had instinctively gone against Jaha junior and the blonde girl, because they were privileged. Murphy didn't want them telling him what to do and he certainly didn't want them to be in charge, but at least they had had a plan. Murphy watched Jaha now, he sat alone on the far edge of the pool of light radiating from the fire. He considered approaching him, asking him his thoughts on what they should be doing to survive. But he dismissed the idea almost instantly; one of the privileged wasn't going to sit and talk to him. Jaha would look down his nose at him, he would assume he was too stupid or too slow to waste his breath on.

Murphy's attention moved from Wells Jaha to Bellamy Blake. Both were capable of taking the role of leader in the camp, but capable in different ways. Jaha had an air of superiority from his entitled upbringing, he would be bossy but he was the kind of person who was full of opinions, he would have ideas for what they should do and how things should work. Blake was arrogant to an extreme that was a step short of tyrannical, and he would want to be in charge just for the power and control. Neither seemed like good options to Murphy. He watched Bellamy as the older boy worked his way around the camp fire, talking to people, charming them and making himself known.

Soon Bellamy approached Murphy and Mbege and sat down beside them. Murphy didn't want to listen to whatever speech he had plied the others with, so he jumped straight in.

"You're not really a member of the guard, are you?" He asked. Bellamy looked surprised but then he smiled a dark smile, a conspiratorial gleam dancing in his eyes.

"The real guard will be here soon. Unless we stop it." He told them both. "You don't actually think they're going to forgive our crimes, do you?" Beside him Mbege frowned and nervously shifted his weight, and Murphy knew that Bellamy had him already. But Murphy was more interested in Bellamy's use of the word _'our'_ when he spoke about crimes. Wasn't that interesting.

"Do you have a point?" Murphy asked coolly.

"No. I have a question: why help them follow us down?" An answer instantly sprang into Murphy's mind - if Clarke was still up there, if she had a few more months, maybe they would bring prisoners down too, maybe she didn't have to be floated. She could be saved if the ark decided it was safe for them all on earth. But he didn't say anything, he just watched with a neutral expression, aiming to look indifferent while beside him Mbege nodded at Bellamy with a grin.

"You want to stop them." Mbege said. "How?" Bellamy grabbed Murphy's wrist and held it up so they could see the metal band. "Break these and they'll think we're dead. If they think we're dead, they don't follow."

"What's in it for us?" Murphy asked, yanking his arm out of Bellamy's grip. Bellamy smirked at him. "Someone has to help me run things."

* * *

It didn't take long before Bellamy had rallied some of the older boys to his side: Miller, Atom, Mbege and some others. With his band of followers, he was able to start dictating to the camp. Bellamy and his men herded the teens, lining them up in front of the fire to wait their turn to have their wristband removed. Murphy remained sitting where he was, watching as they pressed the teens into an orderly line, intimidating anyone who wavered. They systematically destroyed the wristbands: tearing them off and throwing them into the fire. Murphy watched as they cheered every broken wristband, he watched as the younger kids coward slightly and huddled closer together. He let them remove his own wristband but he didn't cheer, he didn't comment at all, his face remained perfectly blank as Mbege thumped him on the back in congratulations. Mbege didn't seem to notice his lack of enthusiasm, but Bellamy noticed.

"No." denied Wells Jaha, when they rounded on him to take his turn. He was to be there finale. "You'll get us killed." He accused them as he stood defiant. The only one brave enough to do so. "It's not just our friends and families up there, it's our doctors, and farmers, and engineers. We won't survive without them." Jaha was almost pleading as he tried futilely to reason with them but they were closing in like a pack of wolves on their prey. Murphy frowned. A prickle of uncertainty crawled up his spine; he wasn't sure how far this would go. How far Bellamy would go. Murphy didn't like the entitled and elitist mini-chancellor any more than Bellamy did, but what he said made sense. Murphy watched on, uneasy.

"Besides," continued Jaha "If it really is safe how can you not want the rest of our people to come down?" he asked Bellamy imploringly. The older man stared back at him with a cold and hard expression. Bellamy didn't care about anyone but himself and his sister, and he would throw the rest of the world to hell if it saved them both. _This,_ Murphy could understand. Until very recently he didn't care about anything other than himself. But now he did. And now he was thinking about the person he cared about, who he hadn't even met face to face, who was still up in the ark.

"My people are already down." Bellamy snarled. " _Those_ people locked my people up." He jabbed a finger up into the sky as he ranted. " _Those_ people floated my mother. Not anymore. Not here, here there are no laws. We do whatever the hell we want."

"Yeah!" yelled Miller gleefully. "Whatever the hell we want!" Mbege and Atom cheered. They took up the chant.

"Whatever the hell we want!" More people cheered and applauded, caught by the momentum.

"Whatever the hell we want!" The nervous energy that had circled the campfire now billowed into excitement. Some of them had been apprehensive of Bellamy and his bullying tactics but this was something they were more comfortable, this was about class, this was them getting one over the establishment. They cheered. They chanted.

"Whatever the hell we want!" They watched Miller and Atom wrestle Jaha to the ground and pin him down while Bellamy cut off his wristband.

Murphy didn't cheer or chant.

As the night dragged on he could feel Bellamy's eyes on him, but he ignored it. Later, once the excitement had died down and people started drifting off to sleep Bellamy brushed passed him.

"You better decide which side you're on Murphy." He muttered.

* * *

As soon as the sun started coming up the group started the hike back to camp, moving as quickly and as quietly as they could. That had been hours ago. Clarke's lungs burned with each gulp of air that she pulled in, but fear and adrenaline kept her moving forward. But fatigue and hunger weighed down her legs slowing her pace as she led the group back. They all struggled and toiled, Octavia the most as she hobbled along with an uneven gate from the bite mark on her thigh.

Clarke felt numb. Occasional ripples of fear and disbelief stirred inside her and chilled her bones but mainly she was in shock. It was all too much to take in. She'd gone from months in solitary, with no company other than the sporadic visits of John, to being sent to earth with 99 other teenagers. And now one of them had been _captured_ , by _grounders_. The fact that she was actually on _the ground_ was a big enough shock to try and get her head round, the rest was all just too much. But too much was good, because if she couldn't process it then she couldn't be overwhelmed by terror. Shock was good, it kept her functioning.

Clarke was surprised by the warm wave of relief that washed over her as she stumbled back into the clearing where the dropship had landed and their makeshift camp had inadvertently formed. It was a childlike relief; that they were somewhere familiar and were therefore safe. Which was ridiculous of course, but again she didn't let herself wallow too long on those kind of thoughts. This camp was her reality now and after the surreal events of their hike, being back was a relief.

But the comforting feeling was quickly whisked away as she took in the scene she had stumbled right into. A fight: Wells and another boy swiping at each other as the others gathered round in a circle, watching them tousle with glee. Anger bubbled in her chest. For a moment she could only watch on, stunned.

The other boy lunged at Wells.

"Go Mbege!" Bellamy cheered, egging him on. Wells dodged, hooking an arm around the boy's neck and trapping him in a headlock.

Then Clarke surged forward.

"Stop it!" she yelled, rushing towards them. "Wells, let him go!" He did, shoving him away.

Everyone stared at her as a silence fell around them.

It was broken seconds later when the rest of her group came stumbling through the trees behind her.

"Octavia." Bellamy ran to Octavia. "Are you alright?" she transferred her weight to Bellamy, leaning on him heavily as he guided her to sit on a rock.

"Yeah I'm fine." She panted. Bellamy looked from her to the rest of the group and frowned.

"Where's all the food." Bellamy questioned.

"We didn't make it to Mount Weather." Said Finn

"What the hell happened out there?" demanded Bellamy.

"We were attacked." Clarke said.

"Attacked?" Wells repeated incredulously "By what?"

"Not what." Finn corrected "Who." There were gasps all around.

"Everything we though we knew about the ground is wrong." Clarke spoke up, addressing them all. "There are people here. Survivors."

A ripple of mumbled conversation swept around the camp.

"The good news is, that means we can survive." Clarke continued, raising her voice so everyone could hear her. "The radiation won't kill us."

"The bad news is the grounders will." Finn drawled. Clarke glared at him.

"Where's the kid with the goggles?" Wells asked Clarke, looking at the group behind her and realizing they were one down. Clarke grimaced, her eyes dropping to the ground.

"They took him." Clarke croaked out. Wells cursed, swiping a hand over his face, smearing the sweat from his forehead. Clarke stiffened. "Where's your wristband?" she asked in a deadly tone.

"Ask him." Wells shot a loathsome look at Bellamy. Clarke spun towards him, anger blazing in her eyes.

"How many?" She demanded in a tone that cut like a knife.

"Twenty-four and counting." Mbege boasted with a malicious smile.

"You idiots!" Clarke screeched. Her eyes burned bright with fury as she glared at them each in turn.

"Life support on the ark is failing." She announced in a loud voice, instantly drawing the attention of everyone in the camp. A deadly silence followed her words. Then she continued. "That's why we are here. They need to know if the earth is survivable again because in a few months the ark will die!" Her stare was as penetrating as a laser as she looked around at them all. Then she pointed behind her, motioning to the group behind her, to an injured Octavia, to the dense forest behind them, and to Jasper missing out there somewhere. "We need their help against whoever is out there. If you take off your wrist bands your killing everyone on the ark. And you're killing us."

Bellamy surged forward, his face taught with anger.

"Don't listen to her, she's one of the privileged. If they come down she'll have it good. How many of us will? They say they'll forgive your crimes. I say you're not criminals, you're fighters!" There were shouts of agreement and encouragement around the camp. But not many. He turned towards Clarke. "We're stronger than you think." He sneered at her, eyeing her with contempt and dark look of determination.

"You're an idiot." She said it quietly, with an exhausted exasperation, as she turned and walked away from him.

The gathered crowd was no longer hanging on to their every word; they stood in clusters, dispersing into groups of anxious discussions and frantic conversations. Bellamy was eyeing her like he considered her a threat, but she had no interest in having power or influence over the others, not in the way that he wanted. She had said her piece; she told them all what she knew and now it was for everyone to decide for themselves. Monty quickly followed after her.

"What do we do now?" He asked, glancing worriedly back at everyone.

"Right now, we go after Jasper." She told him as she headed towards the dropship. Relief washed over Monty's face then he nodded, his features morphing into a look of determination.

* * *

Murphy watched as the group went to the dropship, followed by Wells and an injured Octavia who brushed off her brother and hobbled along behind them. Murphy glanced around the camp, he saw the frightened expressions of the teens who had gathered to listen. He understood that fear, none of them were prepared for this; for life on earth and certainly not for life on earth, hunted by grounders and without the aid of the Ark. Murphy saw Bellamy's anger, and the reflection of that anger in a few others like Mbege and Atom who had gravitated towards him. In that moment Murphy made a decision: he would rather be with the likes of the princess, the mini chancellor and the spacewalker. They had plans and ideas, unlike Bellamy and his cohort who just had a hunger for power and control and a deluded notion of freedom. Murphy wanted to survive. He wanted them to have a chance.

His decision made, he moved away from the clearing and headed towards the dropship. At the bottom of the ramp he hesitated. He was unsure what his reception would be, and old insecurities made him admittedly nervous, but then Clarke popped into his head - as she so often did - and he realized that given the choice of joining a rescue mission she wouldn't hesitate. So he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and stepped into the dropship.

* * *

Wells caught up to Clarke as she rummaged for supplies.

"We need to talk." Wells pressed her. "You've been avoiding me. I can't stand you hating me."

"Not now Wells." She sighed. "There are more important things going on."

"There's something I have to tell you," he pressed on determinedly, "I'm sorry about your father but-"

"Don't you talk about my father!" She spat out, cutting him off instantly and spinning to face him.

"Please Clarke, I-" He pleaded desperately.

"No. I don't want to hear it." She snapped.

"Clarke?" Another voice asked from behind her. Clarke turned. She didn't know the person standing at the door but he was staring at her wide-eyed.

"Yes?" she stepped towards him, concerned by how pale he was and the look of shock on his face.

"It's really you?" it came out as a whisper under his breath, a question he was asking himself more than he was asking her. He took a step closer. "It's me." He continued a little louder, talking to her again. "John."

The air rushed out of her lungs.

"John?" she stared. There was a swell inside her, rising from the pit of her stomach and climbing up her chest. It was hope, surging up inside her in a wave of emotion. Seconds passed. She took a step closer, barely daring to breath incase this moment, this hope, would burst and slip from her grasp. Scared that it would be a trick or a dream and it wouldn't really be him. _But could it really be him?_ Doubt whispered through her. But just as quickly hope answered, _yes it could,_ how else would he know her _?_ He was watching her intently his face tight with apprehension.

He wasn't quite what she had imagined, the sharp angle of his chin and jaw, the cut of his cheekbones – his face had a hardness to it that she had never pictured even although she had heard the bitterness inside him, but his eyes they were endless pits of dark blue that she could drown in, they were deep and searching and seemed so very like the John she had pictured.

It was like a switch flipped on in her mind, and in that instant she knew it was him. She had had one friend and one friend only for these last several months, the worst months of her life, but he had been there with her as she lived through hell, and now he was here. He was here.

"John." She whispered. Something in him buckled, the hard exterior, the apprehensive demeanour, it all softened and a tender vulnerability flashed across his features as he watched her intently. Then a smile split her face. "John!" She launched herself towards him, closing the space between them in a few hurried steps and wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. She heard him sigh, felt him sag in relief. Then he laughed, the sound was hoarse and close to her ear. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he lifted her off the ground and spun her around. She squealed in surprise and held on to him tighter. The world spun, her breath caught in her chest, and her stomach fluttered. Laughter bubbled out of her. He placed her feet back on the ground but kept his arms wrapped firmly around her and she leaned back in his hold to look up at him.

Returning back to camp had felt reassuring, it had alleviated her fear and despair and panic. The dropship and the rest of the 100 were all soothing sights. But that sense of comfort was nothing compared to being reunited with John. It was solace, it was fulfillment, it was coming home. She held him tighter. The shock that had been keeping her numb and functioning had crumbled and now her feelings were sparking and firing in her chest as her heart raced.

"It's you." She breathed in awed disbelief through the thick lump in her throat.

"I can't believe you're here." He muttered quietly to her, his eyes raking over her face, drinking in every detail. Then he grinned at her. "It's so good to finally meet you." She laughed. She could hear it now, the voice through her wall. She wondered how she hadn't recognized it before now. But then she doubted he ever spoke to anyone so softly, so reverently, as he spoke to her.

"I was so worried." She whispered. Her smile fell away as she remembered the last few weeks without him.

"I know." He pulled her closer. Then his eyes darted up and he looked at something behind her. "We'll talk about it all later." he whispered in promise.

Later. Right, they had to save Jasper. Clarke shook herself. They could catch up properly later, right now there were things to do. She nodded her head resolutely and reluctantly stepped out of his grasp.

"I have to go back and get Jasper." She told him.

"I know." He said simply. "Let's go and get him."

The smile Clarke gave him was breathtaking.

* * *

 _Thanks for reading. Thanks also to everyone who has followed, favourited and reviewed (particularly the reviewers, you guys are my favourites). I've been struggling with horrendous writers block with both of my Clurphy stories, hopefully I can get on a roll now that this chapter is finally out. Please let me know what you think, I'm in need of the encouragement and the inspiration..._


End file.
